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02-26-2016, 01:51 AM
tembovu
Ears (and other, stallion-y parts of him) twitched at the purr of her voice from her curled lips. Though very apparent annoyance flashed across his face at her nickname for him— he had always disliked it in Dorobo and now… Now it was incredibly similar to what Rexanna had called him, here in Helovia. Though, before he his low voice could roll into the suddenly charged air between them, her velvet voice was purring again as golden eyes slid across his scarred hide.
He felt his muscles harden slightly, growing beneath her insepection— what was he doing? Or, more aptly, what was she doing? Black-rimmed ears tilt backwards as annoyance coursed more strongly through him. Both at her playful and sassy words (because they were true, he had missed his cat in some strange, twisted way) and at the sudden response his male anatomy was having to seeing the gleaming, spotted cheetah again.
“Having it to look at certainly made my job easier,” what began as a humorous response as he pointedly stared at the voluptuous haunches of Ada faded as a shadow flashed across his face— his job had been finding her and beating her enough to subdue suspicion before letting her escape again…
Mbwene, quickly becoming well-adapted to handling the waves of guilt and sadness from the Elephant, instead grabbed onto the playful humor that had such saturated their bond from Tembovu. She trumpeted loudly, trunk proudly raised, as the feline mare turned her golden eyes on her. Perhaps it was her bond with Tembovu’s memories, but this mare was interesting to her. This mare captivated the brazen calf’s attention.
Amused at Mbwene, he shook away those memories and began to take sweeping, purposeful steps towards his cat, “But I have missed it, and your—” whatever taunting, truthful, charged words were about to leave his low voice were cut short by a different rumbling voice through the trees.
Mbwene was obviously shocked by the man’s headress, as told by her shrill trumpet spouted from an extended, pointing trunk. “Mbwene, enough,” his quiet murmur had an immediate, if begrudging, affect on the small pachyderm. The Elephant King’s attention shifted to the newly appeared buffalo. Brows raise slightly as recognition washes over him at the familiar greeting. “Sijambo, Echo,” his low voice rumbled in greeting. Though his face had lost its happiness, instead closing to the impassive mask of a monarch.
Echo was well known to Dorobo, as mystic medic whom could heal anything just as Kiuaji could poison anything. His eyes dart between the two Dorobians before him, so unlikely a pair and even less likely to be in Helovia, “You two travel together?” Why was there an undercurrent of jealousy in his low rumble?
He felt his muscles harden slightly, growing beneath her insepection— what was he doing? Or, more aptly, what was she doing? Black-rimmed ears tilt backwards as annoyance coursed more strongly through him. Both at her playful and sassy words (because they were true, he had missed his cat in some strange, twisted way) and at the sudden response his male anatomy was having to seeing the gleaming, spotted cheetah again.
“Having it to look at certainly made my job easier,” what began as a humorous response as he pointedly stared at the voluptuous haunches of Ada faded as a shadow flashed across his face— his job had been finding her and beating her enough to subdue suspicion before letting her escape again…
Mbwene, quickly becoming well-adapted to handling the waves of guilt and sadness from the Elephant, instead grabbed onto the playful humor that had such saturated their bond from Tembovu. She trumpeted loudly, trunk proudly raised, as the feline mare turned her golden eyes on her. Perhaps it was her bond with Tembovu’s memories, but this mare was interesting to her. This mare captivated the brazen calf’s attention.
Amused at Mbwene, he shook away those memories and began to take sweeping, purposeful steps towards his cat, “But I have missed it, and your—” whatever taunting, truthful, charged words were about to leave his low voice were cut short by a different rumbling voice through the trees.
Mbwene was obviously shocked by the man’s headress, as told by her shrill trumpet spouted from an extended, pointing trunk. “Mbwene, enough,” his quiet murmur had an immediate, if begrudging, affect on the small pachyderm. The Elephant King’s attention shifted to the newly appeared buffalo. Brows raise slightly as recognition washes over him at the familiar greeting. “Sijambo, Echo,” his low voice rumbled in greeting. Though his face had lost its happiness, instead closing to the impassive mask of a monarch.
Echo was well known to Dorobo, as mystic medic whom could heal anything just as Kiuaji could poison anything. His eyes dart between the two Dorobians before him, so unlikely a pair and even less likely to be in Helovia, “You two travel together?” Why was there an undercurrent of jealousy in his low rumble?
Please tag Tembovu.
